


Hold on

by Despeerado



Category: Original Work
Genre: Desperation, Omorashi, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-06-01 10:29:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15141167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Despeerado/pseuds/Despeerado
Summary: Omorashi. That's all there is to see here. Holding on for dear life.





	Hold on

Mark hurried along Main street, cursing under his breath. Why did he do this to himself every _damn_ time? Jeff always suggested the same place for their lunch meetings, and he, idiot that he was, always agreed. To be fair, they had a great menu. And they made a killer smoothie. The only problem was that the tiny walk-in place didn't have a bathroom. And he never managed to resist having a second one of those giant killer smoothies.

Now he was hurrying back to the office, paying dearly for his mistakes. He resisted the urge to grab himself, instead speeding up a little more. It wasn't that far to go after all. He just had to hold it for a little while longer. _It's not that bad yet_ , he told himself. In spite of that, he caught himself looking around for a place to pee, but it was just stores all around. Then his eyes fell on the bank. It was a big headquarter building, and he distinctly recalled that they had visitor toilets from when he'd been in there last, discussing his mortgage. _Hallelujah_. Relief in sight.

He stepped inside, looking around quickly. He spotted the bathrooms in the east corner of the huge entrance hall and made a relieved sigh. He took another step when a gun shot rang out suddenly. The shock caused him to almost pee his pants right then and there, but he thankfully managed to avoid that disaster by a hair's breadth.

"On the floor!", somebody yelled, and Mark complied, thinking _this isn't happening, this isn't happening_. Did people even still rob banks in real life? Wasn't this just something that happened in movies? Didn't they just get hacked or something nowadays?

There was a commotion at one of the counters, and Mark thought, _I don't want to die_ , followed closely by, _Oh God, I have to pee._ He thought that maybe he needed to get his priorities straight, but his bladder was insistent that it was a priority as well.

He spent what seemed like an eternity lying on the floor, but what in reality had probably been only a couple of minutes. Then there was some more commotion outside the bank, apparently somebody had triggered an alarm and the police was already on the scene. There was shouting all around him, then somebody grabbed him by the arm and shepherded him off somewhere. He was led into one of the small offices with a dozen or so other customers of the bank, then the door was locked behind them.

They all looked at each other uneasily, listening for what was going on outside of the door. Mark _really_ hoped the criminals had been apprehended. He did not want to be a hostage. And especially not a hostage that had to use the bathroom really, _really_ badly. 

They didn't hear another sound for the span of ten minutes, and his anxiety spiked sky-high. If the police had taken the bank, they would have freed them by now, right? What was happening? He jumped from foot to foot, unable to hold still. He didn't really care at this point what the other potential hostages thought, he just had to pee _right freaking now_. Oh God, how long would they be stuck in here? He wanted to try rattling on the door, but knew that wouldn't be a good idea.

After what seemed like an eternity, one of the masked men opened the door, and came inside. He made a headcount, collected the phones from everybody, then turned to leave again. Mark took courage and spoke up. Who knew when he might get another chance.

"Excuse me."

The man turned around, looking very threatening without so much as moving a muscle.

"I- um- I really need to use the bathroom. I'll just be a minute. Please?"

The guy looked him up and down.

"Dude, you've been here all of ten minutes. Hold it."

"But-"

The masked man opened the door, stepped through and shut it with a bang behind him.

_Oh God, oh God, oh God, this isn't happening_ , Mark thought. He leaned against one of the desks, crossing his legs tightly, holding himself. To hell with what these people thought about him. He had to pee right now.

This was a nightmare. He was a hostage. While needing to pee worse than he ever had to in his entire life. Oh God. It was torture. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, cursing silently.

They waited for half an hour without hearing another sound from the outside. The tension in the room was palpable. By this time, Mark was sweating, all of his attention focussed on holding in his pee. 

The absolute worst part was that he didn't know for how long he would need to hold it. There was no relief in sight. He wasn't sure if he could hold it for another 15 minutes, but if he had at least known that he could go then, he would have something to work towards. Now he was just getting more desperate by the minute, with no possibility of relief.

He looked around. There was a big potted plant next to one of the desks. Maybe if he asked everyone in the room to turn away for a couple of minutes, he could relief himself in that? It was ridiculous to even consider it, but he was getting closer and closer to the point where it was either that or peeing his pants.

He leaned over, screwing his legs together even tighter. The thought of relieving himself in the plant had almost caused him to have an accident. He groaned. 

There was nothing for it. He would have to do it. His cheeks reddened in anticipation of the embarrassment of peeing in a room full of people. 

"Listen, folks-"

He didn't get any further because at that moment, the door opened, and the same guy as before stepped in, telling them to walk down the corridor to another room.

Mark stopped, about to ask him for mercy, but before he even got a word out, the guy yelled "Move" in his face and Mark did as he was told. He moved forward in an undignified hobble, stopping frequently to hold himself. He was the last one to arrive in the other room.

He had no idea why they had been moved and it didn't seem like anybody was about to enlighten them. He couldn't care less, to be honest. The only place he needed to be moved to was a bathroom. The man told them to sit down. He went to stand by the door instead of leaving this time.

They all huddled on the floor uncomfortably. Well, Mark was certain none of the others were quite as uncomfortable as him. He moved back and forth, unable to hold still. Both of his hands were buried in his crotch, holding back the flood.

He couldn't take it anymore. "Please", he begged, "Please just let me go to the bathroom. I can't hold it anymore."

The guy didn't even grace him with a reply.

The woman who was sitting next to him spoke up. "For God's sake, just let him go. It's not going to make anybody's situation here any better if we're sitting in a puddle of urine."

Mark gave her a grateful look. 

The guy came over to them, kneeling in front of him. "How about you just behave like an adult and don't make a puddle on the floor, hm?"

"But- I can't- it hurts-"

The man lifted his gun and pointed it at Mark's head. Mark almost peed his pants in shock, but managed to hold it back with effort.

"How about this for motivation, if you make a puddle on the floor I'll blow your brains out."

With that he got up again, resuming his post by the door, apparently considering the issue closed. Mark stared at him in shock. Surely, he hadn't meant that. He'd just said it to scare him.

He felt a spurt of pee escape into his shorts, and pushed down with both hands, holding on even more tightly. All of the muscles in his stomach were clenched already in his effort to delay the inevitable.

_Oh God. Oh God, please help me. If you help me now, I'll go to church, I promise. Please. Anybody._

Another 15 minutes went by. He was in agony. The feeling had turned from just being pressure to being actually painful a while ago, and was getting worse still. He was going to pee himself. 

He felt liquid on his cheeks and realized that he'd started to cry. He moved his head and dried his eyes on his sleeve.

Oh God. He started fantasizing about standing in the men's room, pulling down his zipper and drilling a hole in the urinal. 

"Ugnnnh", he said, narrowly avoiding to pee himself yet again. It was going to happen. He couldn't hold it anymore. He was at the very edge of his limit. His legs were shaking badly from the effort of clenching his muscles so tightly for so long, and he was sweating profoundly.

He couldn't hold it anymore. He had to go. He called up the last reserve of his will power, out of fear that the man in the mask had been serious after all. _Don't pee. Don't pee. Hold it. Just another ten seconds. Then another ten seconds. You can do it._

Ten seconds seemed like an awfully long time. He just couldn't. A long, hot spurt escaped him and he groaned, cutting it off with an immense effort.

He couldn't hold it anymore. He was going to die.

A second man entered the room, looking around. His gaze lingered on Mark for a moment.

"What's his problem?", the newcomer asked.

"Has to pee", the first guy replied, sounding amused. Mark could have killed him.

The newcomer shook his head. "You can be such an asshole sometimes. Get your head in the game and stop messing around, we're in deep enough shit already."

He turned to Mark. "Come with me."

Mark's brain had trouble following, he was so focussed on holding in the ocean inside of him. _Relief?_ , he thought, and almost lost control again.

"C'mon dude, I don't have all day. Do you wanna pee or not?"

Mark got up slowly. The movement jostled his bladder and he bit the inside of his cheek, hard, to distract himself from the pain and the immeasurable need to pee right now. He managed to stand up without loosing it.

He made a step forward, both hands still shoved into his crotch, and thought for a horrible moment that he wasn't going to be able to walk without peeing himself. But he somehow managed to take a second wobbly step, then another, all the while keeping his legs as tightly crossed as possible.

He managed to shuffle over to the door, looking like a complete idiot.

"Man, you got it bad, huh?" the newcomer remarked.

_You have no idea_ , Mark thought, but didn't reply, in fear of saying something wrong, and also because his entire being was focussed on holding his pee in.

They started walking towards the bathroom. _You're almost there. You can make it. One step at a time. Almost there. Just focus on holding it a little while longer. Don't think about the relief yet. Don't imagine it. Just hold it. You can do it._

He hobbled after the other man, stumbling forward with his legs crossed. They were almost at the bathroom door when all hell broke loose. 

Shots were being fired somewhere, and the man in front of him ducked for cover. Mark looked at the bathroom door longingly, which was only a couple of feet away, but then his common sense won out and he got down as well.

By the time he looked up again, the man who'd let him out of the room was already on the ground, arms behind his head, a SWAT officer kneeling on his back.

Another officer was talking to him, but Mark hadn't caught a single word. It was a miracle how he was still holding in the flood, in spite of the shock he'd felt when he'd heard the first shot.

He finally understood the officer. "Are you okay?", he kept asking, trying to help him up. Mark let him, but then the man tried to lead him away, and Mark threw all of his weight against him.

"I have to pee!"

The man stopped. He was wearing a mask, so Mark couldn't see his expression. He also didn't give a flying fuck what the man thought of him. Other officers were rushing past them.

"Listen, sir, this is not the right time to-", the man started, but Mark shook off his hand on his arm. 

"I have to pee", he repeated desperately, moving past him into the men's room. He almost peed himself right behind the door. After all the time he spend holding it, that would have been quite the stupid thing to do. 

He stopped walking in favour of unzipping. He squeezed himself, hard, hoping he could make it the last few feet. He made one step, then a second one, and then he fell apart.

Pee started gushing out full force, splattering on the ground, and he made a run for the closest urinal. He screamed. The feeling of relief was incredible. He had to support himself with one hand on the wall because his knees threatened to give out.

He was still peeing with the force of a fire hose, the stream not lessening one bit. The feeling was similar to having an orgasm. He couldn't stop himself from moaning loudly. _Oh God. Oh Fuck. Yeah. Oh God._

He leaned his head against the wall, pee still gushing out of him. If the guy had put the gun to his head now and told him to stop, he couldn't have. He'd held too much for too long and it was all rushing out of him now, splattering loudly on the ceramic.

He moaned again. The stream finally lessened a little. When it stopped completely, after what felt like an eternity to him, he sat down on the ground. He'd made it. He looked at the trail of pee from the door to the urinal. Well, almost made it.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more stories like this? Leave a comment!


End file.
